


Bloodstained Heart

by Lady_of_Rohan



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Bedroom Sex, Butts, Caretaking, Crying, Dreams, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Face Slapping, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon, Healing, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, Major Character Injury, Making Out, Men Crying, Needles, Older Woman/Younger Man, POV Alternating, Pain, Painkillers, Reading Aloud, Realization, Recovery, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Stabbing, Tallowe, Undressing, Woman on Top, beat-up Talbot, young Marlowe, young Talbot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Talbot is grievously wounded, Marlowe is forced to reconsider just how much he means to her. Young TalbotxMarlowe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodstained Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually one of the first Tallowe things I had ever written... back in February 2012. My best friend and I felt it was necessary to explore how their romantic relationship actually began... and so this is it! Our headcanon for how they became Tallowe :) In this fic, Talbot is 25 and Marlowe is 47.

 

 

 

 

 

**1\. Bloodstained Heart**

Patience may have been a virtue, but it was one that Marlowe simply didn't possess in her current situation.

She had awaited Talbot's return for hours.  It should have been an easy mission, a simple delivery, only an hour at most... but when the third hour dragged by with agonizing slowness, Marlowe began thinking that something had gone awry. She'd received a rather cryptic message some time ago, which didn't lessen her concern.

Though she tried to convince herself that Talbot was more than capable, it only took one brief slip for the shit to hit the proverbial fan. It would be a lie to deny the fact that she had lost a great deal of agents over the years... and an even crueler lie to say she cared. It was a cold separation that she maintained between the field agents and herself.

But Talbot... well... Talbot was different. Pacing impatient around the main foyer of her manor, she was forced to care about his whereabouts. The security of her entire organization was at stake if anything happened to him, as he was the man who would succeed her in the event that any cruel fate should befall her before her time. It wasn't something that she typically dwelled upon, except in times like these.

Minutes passed unbearably, the ticking grandfather clock setting the pace as her shoes clicked against the floor. Outside, the downpour was incessant... with the occasional thunderclap sounding in the distance. Suddenly, a harsh breeze rushed through the main foyer, assaulting her bare legs and causing her skirt to ripple for a moment.

The sound of raised voices met her ears and not a moment later, a group of drenched agents burst through the front door. A limp figure was being dragged in the middle of them, slung over the shoulders of two of the men. She knew immediately by the pinstriped suit that it was Talbot, though his head was slumped forward and his dampened hair fell loosely across his eyes.

"What the _hell_ happened?" Marlowe demanded, rushing towards the group and speaking to the man nearest to her.

"He was ambushed. Found him in an alleyway near Carnaby. We thought he was dead."

Marlowe's hands balled into fists, mirroring the sudden tightness in her chest. "But he's—?"

"Still breathing. Doctor Knox is on the way."

She risked a glance at Talbot's motionless figure. She had to look away for a moment in order to stop the lightheaded sensation that suddenly overwhelmed her. His suit was not only torn in several places but stained by blood from what appeared to be a deep wound in his side, and his face was marred by scratches and bruises. She could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

"Take him to his room," she said, voice cold and unwavering. "Be sure that he’s comfortable until the doctor arrives."

Marlowe watched as they carried Talbot up to his chambers. It wasn't until she saw blood dripping in his wake, a stark contrast to the sparkling floors, that she realized the direness of the situation.

"You there," Marlowe turned on her heel to face the small group of agents left in the foyer, pointing at the man in the forefront. "Who's responsible for this?"

Though her words were spoken calmly, her lips were pursed into a thin line. _Someone_ was going to pay for this.

"It wasn't our fault," the man in the front said, quite lamely. "The assailants fled before we could track them down and—"

"Not your fault?" Marlowe gave an insincere chuckle as she cut him off. "What exactly were _you_ doing while all of this occurred, hrmm?"

At that, the man shrank away from her. She recognized him one of the agents assigned particularly to provide backup for Talbot.

"I... er... well..."

When an answer wasn't formed promptly enough, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and spun him so that he was knocked harshly into the foyer table. He fell to the ground from the impact and the decorative vase perched upon it toppled and shattered with a crash. Marlowe didn't flinch. If she had to make an example of someone, then so be it.

"Your futility has cost you this job," she spat, voice icy as she glowered above him. Marlowe then turned to address the remainder of the men, who were regarding her with blank stares. "As for the rest of you, I want you to get back out there. Allow me to make myself clear: I don't care how long it takes, I don't care what you have to do... I want you to find out who did this. _Now_."

Her patience was wearing thin when she noticed that the men were seemingly frozen in place.

"What are you doing?" she snapped. "Don't just stand there! Get moving! And clean up this mess!"

The men scattered, and Marlowe turned sharply towards the staircase, stepping over the fallen agent in the process. She had to check on Talbot. With brisk steps even in her high-heeled shoes, Marlowe made her way upstairs and down the hallway. She entered his room, joining the small group of agents that were attending to him. They'd turned every available light on to better assess the damage. She remained a few feet away from his bed, allowing her eyes to glance over the scene before her. It was something straight out of a nightmare.

"How is he?" she asked, the words spoken much more quietly than she had intended.

The question was pointless, as she already knew the answer. As one of the men at his bedside shifted, he allowed her a clear view of Talbot's half-conscious form. His tan skin was pale and ashen, his body glistening with sweat. Now shirtless, they'd pressed towels upon the wound in attempt to get it to clot. The white cloth was stained a startlingly bright shade of red as blood dripped down Talbot's side, ruining his pristine sheets.

"He's losing a lot of blood," was all that the agent said.

Of _course_ he was.

He was feverish. He was in pain.

He was probably _dying_.

"He wouldn't be if you were _doing it right_ ," she hissed, when she noticed one of the agent's weak pressure upon Talbot's wound. "Move aside."

Marlowe stepped in, shouldering two of the men as she took one of the towels and pressed down hard against Talbot's side, applying an ample amount of pressure. It was enough to make him stir, and his blue eyes opened, fixing upon her for a few moments as he muttered her name in confusion, as if he didn't understand why she was there.

"... _Marlowe_?"

She stared, a numb sensation washing over her as Talbot groaned and closed his eyes again, falling back into unconsciousness. Before she could utter anything in return, one of the men announced that the doctor had arrived. She turned her head to see him rushing into the room with his satchel and long white coat. Not quite as drenched as the other men, but still quite soppy, he literally looked as if he'd run a mile to get there.

"Marlowe," said Dr. Knox, slightly out of breath as he came to stand beside the bed. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder and she bristled at the gesture. "I arrived as quickly as I could. I'd like everyone to clear out, but I understand if you want to stay—"

Her green eyes locked with his, expression steely as she hesitantly tore herself from Talbot's side.

"No, just... _fix him_."

Dr. Knox nodded solemnly at her demand. As emotion choked her, Marlowe had to turn away from the scene in order to catch her breath. She heard as he ushered everyone out and she joined the exodus of agents filing out of Talbot's chambers. She could have stayed, but somehow, she simply _couldn't_. The great Katherine Marlowe, who had lived through countless battles and oftentimes grievous injuries, couldn't even stick around without her composure breaking.

As she came to stand outside of Talbot's room, she moved to run her fingers through her hair when she paused, holding her hands palms-up to observe the red that stained her fingertips.

Talbot's blood was all over her hands.

Frowning deeply, Marlowe headed towards her own chambers, just down the adjacent hallway. Footsteps brisk, the short trip was a blur. The familiar scenery of her own lavish living quarters provided no comfort to her as she crossed the room and entered her washroom. She ran the sink and washed her hands, watching as the blood mingled with the water at the bottom of the sink and caused it to turn murky before it swirled down the drain.

Once she was clean again, she leaned forward with her palms at the edge of the marble sink. Her thoughts felt clouded and scattered as she regarded her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked like hell, eyes wild and her blonde hair frazzled and out of place. What was happening to her? Though she took a few deep, calming breaths... Marlowe couldn't help but feel shaken.

She consoled herself that she had every reason to feel upset over the possibility of losing her young protege, as the very foundation of her organization was at stake. Talbot was the only man who was properly trained to succeed her. If he died, she'd have to find someone new... seven long years of special programs wasted.

But after a few moments of staring into the void of that bloodstained sink, Marlowe realized that it wasn't that at all.

Somehow, seeing blood on your hands was different when it wasn't your own.

In all her years, she'd assumed that bad things couldn't happen to people like Talbot. He was under her watch, he was _safe_. And just when she'd allowed herself to get too cocky, too damn sure of herself... life had showed her a cruel twist of fate… _of course it did,_ a reading in the cards that she couldn’t have foreseen, because she hadn’t cared to.

Once she had composed herself, at least to the best of her abilities, Marlowe returned to the hallway leading towards Talbot's room.

Time seemed to slow as she paced impatiently and toyed idly with the jade pendant hanging around her neck, awaiting any news from the doctor. It could have been minutes or hours that she wandered back and forth. Marlowe wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed far too long to tolerate.

Just when she felt as if she couldn't wait any longer, she heard the door to Talbot's chambers creak behind her.

"Marlowe?" At last, Dr. Knox emerged from the room to greet her, hesitating for a moment in the doorway as Marlowe stopped pacing. His features were solemn.

"Is he all right?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound too eager. Her heart was thudding in her chest.

"Yes," he said quietly, as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. At the good news, Marlowe exhaled a sharp breath. "The stab wound in his side was deeper than I expected. With such an injury, it's incredibly fortunate that his lung wasn't punctured. If that had happened, he'd be dead. Talbot is a very lucky young man..."

She nodded, lips pursed as Knox continued.

"...but in any case, he's all patched up now and the outlook is promising. With some bedrest, the prognosis is good. He should be back on his feet in a couple of weeks."

"Can I see him?"

"As a fair warning, he's in a lot of pain," said Dr. Knox, with a sympathetic frown. “I gave him some morphine, but he's awake now. You can see him if you'd like."

"Yes, I'd like that."

He held the door open for her as she stepped into Talbot's chambers, and she looked over her shoulder before he could follow.

"May we have a moment?"

"Of course."

With a polite nod, Dr. Knox door shut the door behind him as he exited, leaving the room in complete silence. Marlowe's stride was purposeful as she came to stand near the edge of the bed. Propped against the pillows behind him, Talbot slowly turned his head to face her and immediately straightened, wincing as he did so. The color seemed to drain entirely from his face.

Even in the soft, dim lighting cast by the lamp upon his bedside table, Marlowe could see the extent of his injuries...the colorful bruises along his neck, arms, and collarbone... cuts and scrapes marring his face and the bloodied bandages wrapped around his midsection. His eyes were glazed over, accented by the dark circles beneath them and void of their usual glint... and a deep frown was etched into his features. Whether from pain or guilt, she wasn't sure.

Several agonizing moments of silence passed before Talbot opened his mouth to speak.

"Marlowe, I can explain—"

His words were cut off as a resounding slap echoed throughout the room. Talbot gasped, pressing his palm to the side of his face where Marlowe had hit him. He stared at her, mouth agape and eyes watery as he hissed through his teeth, attempting to recover from the unexpected blow.

Marlowe leaned in close, pointing a finger mere inches from his nose.

"If you _ever_ scare me like that again," she scolded, her voice a harsh whisper. "I will not hesitate to have you removed from my services."

Talbot was speechless, with a hand still clutched to his cheek. However, her words seemed to hurt him far more than the physical blow. There was a pain flowing in the depths of his blue eyes that she hadn't seen previously. Against her will, Marlowe's lips began to tremble. He seemed but a mere boy in that moment, terrified and guilt-ridden... and so reminiscent of the young man she'd taken in years ago. There was something about him that dissolved her sturdy countenance, something that she could never quite comprehend. Most of the time, she didn't want to.

With one final shake of her head, Marlowe spun on her heel and briskly exited the room, willing herself to pull her gaze away from him. She was sure that she got her point across, even if it was in the only way she knew how.

Marlowe had to take a few steadying breaths to prevent the unwelcome moisture from welling up in her eyes as she stepped through the door.

Dr. Knox regarded her quizzically as she rushed past him, and she headed straight back to her room with her palm clamped over her mouth. In her strange state, she felt the need to withdraw from everything, and so she retired for the evening. Hours passed, and she was only interrupted once to be informed that her agents had located the men responsible for Talbot's injury.

It was a small victory, but it offered no relief to her.

Utterly torn, Marlowe found herself mulling things over and replaying her last encounter with Talbot over and over again. When at last she could bear the silence no longer, she knew what she had to do.

Marlowe pulled a robe around her body to fight against the chill of the late night hours before stepping outside into the hallway. Her residence was left in peace and quiet after the hectic events of the day.

Cat-like in nature as her bare feet pattered down the hall, she kept to the shadows until she reached Talbot's door. Opening it as quietly as she could and then shutting it behind her, she allowed herself in.

A soft light was pouring in through the windows, illuminating his sleeping form. He seemed to be in a deep slumber, most likely the effects of the drugs in his system. For only a brief moment, she felt conflicted about waking him... but she refused to turn back. It was now or never.

She sat at the edge of the bed as it gave a creak, silently observing him. Talbot's face twitched slightly, but he remained asleep.

It was then that Marlowe decided upon a different tactic. With a gentleness that was uncharacteristic of her, she pulled back the sheets and perched herself upon his lap with her legs on either side of his hips. The moment her weight was upon him, Talbot jolted awake with a gasp, immediately moving a hand to push whatever was on top of him away.

It was a foolish move, in retrospect... to practically pounce a man who had been assaulted only a few hours earlier. Regardless, Marlowe somehow found amusement in the myriad of emotions flitting across his features... from fear, to confusion and finally a flustered embarrassment when he realized that he was gripping her exposed thigh.

Talbot froze, not moving a muscle as his gaze met hers. He blinked a few times, as if he expected her to magically vanish before his eyes. He remained quite rigid when she didn't.

She watched as his eyes drifted over her figure through the sheer, lacy, chemise, leaving very little to the imagination. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed hard and his palm remained upon her leg, seemingly too afraid to move it and too startled to do anything else.

"Marlowe, I don't understand," he muttered, voice hoarse. His chapped lips were parted as he shook his head.

"Shhh..." she soothed, with a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. "I didn't come here to talk."

She traced his jawline and down along his collarbone before her palm came to rest upon his shoulder. He really did look like he'd been through hell. The dim moonlight caused the bruises all over his neck and chest to look darker and considerably more painful. She knew that kissing pain away was a fool's notion... but Marlowe leaned in regardless and pressed her lips to the softness of his neck.

"Marlowe-" He groaned as she planted several kisses along his neckline. With her hand resting upon the center of Talbot's chest, she could feel his heart racing. "Wait... just... allow me to explain."

Although he tried to keep her from continuing, she could tell that it wasn't what he wanted. From her straddled position, there was no mistaking Talbot's true desires.

"Oh, Talbot... you never learn, do you?"

The man really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. It had been a persistent problem for him, and sometimes there was only one singular solution to such things.

Without another word, Marlowe captured his mouth in an eager kiss. Talbot didn't reciprocate but he didn't necessarily recoil, either. It was a safe and dumbfounded middle ground. When he remained motionless, she kissed him harder, desperately trying to break the spell. At that, Talbot seemed to accept the situation and began moving his lips in sync with hers, his body relaxing somewhat.

It didn't surprise her that he was hesitant, but she hoped to quickly change that. Grasping the soft hair at the nape of his neck, Marlowe urged him closer. She allowed her tongue to glide along his bottom lip and a satisfied little noise resonated from the back of Talbot's throat. Their kiss deepened, and Marlowe found it to be a bizarre yet wonderful sensation to be with Talbot in such a way. They'd worked alongside each other for years... and yet, she found that she'd never truly seen him until now.

It pained her to admit that it had taken his near-death for her to realize the extent of her appreciation for the only man she'd ever truly trusted... with her work, with her life's pursuit... and now, it seemed... her heart.

Talbot's palm was grazing along her thigh, trailing upwards to brush beneath her chemise. She sighed through their liplock, entertained by the fact that he was getting more adventurous.

They were kissing so hard that Marlowe's lips were going numb, so she pulled away. Eyebrows knitted, Talbot regarded her with a dazed interest as she ran her palms down his chest, admiring the firmness of it. Her hands traveled farther still, tracing invisible lines down his body... grazing the bandages wrapped around his waist and downwards along his taut stomach. Talbot's breath hitched when her exploration dipped down to his hip bones, which jutted attractively from his waist. He had always been on the thin side, but it didn't make him any less appealing. Talbot had a good, strong, body... wiry yet capable.

She knew that she was being an incorrigible tease as her fingertips lingered there, rubbing along the soft flesh of his hips and grazing just below the rim of his boxers... but she was intrigued by Talbot's reactions. Chest heaving noticeably, he was biting his lip against the light, teasing, movements. Marlowe only hoped she wasn't causing him any pain in his fragile state.

When she felt he'd had enough, Marlowe shifted a bit, and deftly slid his boxers down his narrow hips. Her eyes took him in. Despite his pain, he seemed remarkably eager for her.

“Marlowe, I—“

“Shhh…” At Talbot's attempt to form a protest, Marlowe leaned forward to press her index finger to his lips in order to silence him. His blue eyes were dilated while he looked upon her, making them look darker than usual beneath his brow. Sweat was beading upon his forehead, his cheeks looking particularly pallid and his damp hair matted against his face.

If there was any way to make it clear how much Talbot meant to her... she hoped that this would get the point across.

 

When offered no further protest, she eased herself onto him and he released a loud, pleasured, groan as they connected.

Any unnecessary movement on his part could end quite badly, so Talbot remained propped against his pillows. He seemed more than content in allowing Marlowe to take the reins, with his hand gently cupping her backside as she rocked against him and controlled the pace.  Marlowe moved gracefully up and down, their bodies casting shadows in the moonlight.

The noises emitted from Talbot were delectable... his breath coming in shallow, urgent, gasps through his parted lips. Marlowe's palms remained upon his chest and it felt as if his heart was beating in perfect rhythm with her own. He was much calmer than she'd expected...looking almost sorrowful as he locked eyes with hers.

Marlowe wondered what it was in particular about Talbot that drove her to such spontaneity... and what made him such an exception in her life. She didn't know what it felt like to break rules and barriers before he’d come along. Half of her warned against it, and the other half wanted to do something daring, something stupid... something _new_. She wasn't sure what the cards would have in store for them at the end of their encounter, and part of her feared the consequences of her actions, but she tried to keep them far from the forefront of her thoughts. There would be time to dwell on such things later, but now was truly not the time or place. For now, she'd just enjoy it.

Talbot was suddenly breathing harder, his tension growing with each thrust from Marlowe. His teeth were gritted as if in pain, and she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't allowed him much rest after suffering his injury. It wouldn't be much longer, though.

Marlowe maintained a steady rhythm until she felt his body tense and then release beneath her. Talbot's grip tightened upon her thigh as pleasured convulsions wracked through him, tilting his head back against his pillow and gasping for air.

"Oh, God, " he moaned. "Ohhhhh, _mgggggh_ , _Katherine_..."

She found her own release as a satisfied sigh escaped her lips, her muscles tightening around him, but Marlowe couldn't help but feel a bit distracted. Never in her life had she heard Talbot utter her given name. It was a strange sound... not unpleasant, but foreign to her ears. When was the last time someone had even called her that? It must have been years ago. The familiarity of it was terrifying... and at the same time, refreshing. It warmed her from the inside out and simultaneously seemed to send a chill running down her spine.

With both of them left quite breathless, Marlowe eased herself off of him and settled for lying by his side with the sheets pulled back around them. She allowed herself to rest her chin upon his shoulder, with a leg still draped over his hips and an arm across his chest. His breath was hot and pleasant against her skin as he exhaled, not quite evened out.

Talbot's body felt particularly warm as her fingertips traced his breastbone. He seemed a bit feverish, his body lightly saturated in sweat. She'd make sure that the doctor saw him first thing in the morning. But for now, he was hers… and hers alone.

As she silently observed him, Marlowe saw that Talbot was staring at the ceiling, apparently in deep thought. She couldn't help but notice the grim expression that contorted his features, and she honestly wondered what he was thinking about. Again, it was difficult to tell whether it was pain or something more elusive.

All was quiet for several long moments, the only sound in the room was their shallow breathing and the pounding of their hearts... until Talbot broke the silence, his voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry I failed you."

Despite the quietness of his apology, the words seemed to hang heavily in the air as they echoed in her ears. Marlowe couldn't quite fathom that he'd actually uttered them, especially after what they had just shared. Did he really think that a failed mission was of more concern to her than his own life?

She shifted slightly to look directly into his eyes, and it confirmed the answer. The pain had resurfaced in their depths, but she knew for certain it wasn't just physical this time around.

"You really are a fool," she said, her voice cold. His brow furrowed as she shook her head. "Just promise me you won't let it happen again."

"I promise," he said, and then gave a slight pause before continuing. "I can't imagine my life without you."

At his candid words, Marlowe felt that uncomfortable tightness building in her chest once again. It was as if someone had squeezed the air from her lungs and caused her heart to palpitate. How was it that he could so easily express what she never possibly could? It was something that she'd never understand. Before he could utter any further sentiments in the afterglow, Marlowe pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss. When she pulled away, Talbot was regarding her with an exhausted little smile.

"You should get some rest. You need your strength back."

He seemed unable to argue with that logic as he closed his eyes, body relaxing further against his pillow. Marlowe watched as he fought against sleep for several minutes, eyelids fluttering as if he wished to stay up as long as he possibly could with her by his side. It was endearing, but Talbot eventually succumbed and drifted off, falling into what looked to be a very restful sleep. She would stay for a while longer, just to be sure that he was all right. His wounds were still fresh, after all, and pain was likely to return to him throughout the night.

Still resting against his chest, Marlowe wondered if he'd ever truly know how much he meant to her or how frightened she had been at the possibility of losing him. Perhaps it was better that she kept him guessing. Still, what Talbot saw as a failed mission, she saw as the loss of her entire future... and the only person she'd ever been able to rely upon, fully and completely. Marlowe swore to herself that she'd never let it happen again. Talbot was far too precious to let him slip away so carelessly.

Her fingers ran through his mussed up hair, listening to his steady breathing as he slept. Part of her was still very much afraid, and Talbot's prior words kept replaying in her thoughts like a broken record.

 _I can't imagine my life without you_.

Marlowe had been forced to consider such a life just mere hours ago and it was enough to make her realize that it was a cruel and dark existence... the ultimate wake-up call. She had always heard the old adage that it took nearly losing something to appreciate its true worth. Today, she had learned such a lesson, so simple in its concept, but so difficult to accept and rationalize. Talbot was worth everything to her. As she planted another kiss upon his bruised cheek, she swore to herself that she'd never let herself forget it.

 

 


	2. Maybe I'm Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two! This time in Talbot's POV. In which he doesn't remember what occurred the previous evening... awkward.

Green eyes were at the tip of his awareness, beautiful and captivating from above him. Soft, moist lips were against his mouth, kissing him passionately. Gentle fingertips caressed every inch of his skin. Each touch filled his senses as he drifted in the void, feeling an indescribable serenity wash over him...but when he reached out to hold her, to be sure that she was real, she was already gone.

Talbot stirred, blinking several times before he willed his eyes to remain open. It took him a few moments to come around, but when he did, he couldn't help but feel a great deal of guilt over the images that his mind had conjured... as well as disappointment when he realized that it was nothing more than a dream. _Again_. It seemed unbearably cruel.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw only Marlowe.

He glanced around the room, startled by the sunrays peeking through the thick curtains. With his gaze directed towards the clock hanging on the far wall, Talbot frowned. It was 2:00 in the afternoon. He never slept such an ungodly amount. Who had let him do such a thing? Half of the day was already wasted.

As panic rose in his chest, Talbot sat up and instantly regretted it, releasing a strained cry. The searing pain that bolted through his side was intense. He groaned miserably, collapsing back against the pillows with his hands clutching at his bandaged waist. With watery eyes, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out again. Talbot took a few steadying breaths as the pain subsided. Suddenly, he remembered everything.

The events of the previous day were crashing back into his brain like a tidal wave. His mission gone awry, the wound he had suffered, his semi-conscious trip back to the manor... and Marlowe's disappointment in him. He winced from more than the pain. Talbot could still vividly see the look on her face after she had hit him. It was the last time he'd seen her.

A cold dread washed over him as his panic resurfaced. What if Marlowe fired him? What if she simply didn't care any longer? Where would he turn, what would he do without her? There were a thousand unanswered questions and so Talbot sat with his brow knitted, staring into space and hoping that Marlowe could find it in her heart to forgive him.

His frantic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his door creaking open. He turned his head, his heart pounding. However, he was relieved to see Dr. Knox entering his chambers with his doctor’s bag in hand. The man’s eyebrows rose in surprise upon seeing him so alert.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting you to be awake! How are you feeling today, lad?"

Confused and hopeless... did he have a prescription for either of those? Talbot honestly wasn't in the mood for such pleasantries.

"Oh... I'm all right," he mumbled, gripping at his bedsheets.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes."

If it were up to him, he'd still be sleeping. At least the Marlowe in his dreams wasn't about to disown him for his actions. Knox came to stand near his bed, reaching out to take his wrist and count out his pulse.

"Hrm, your heart rate is a little fast. How's the pain?"

Talbot could have been honest about the nagging discomfort radiating through his side, but he opted against it. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

"Better," he lied, being sure to keep a straight face.

Knox looked perplexed. "Well, I promised around-the-clock pain relief... it's about time for another dose."

Before Talbot could utter a response, he was already producing a syringe and vial from his bag.

"No, I'll be all right."

In truth, Talbot didn't like the way medication made him feel. In the current moment, he'd rather feel pain than the forced numbness that resulted from drugs.

"All right," said Knox, putting away the items, albeit hesitantly. Talbot refused to meet his gaze, afraid that Knox might see right through him. "Well, let me change your bandages and I'll leave you be. You need your rest, after all."

Talbot gently eased his legs over the side of the bed and cast his sheets aside, only to quickly pull them back over his lap. It was then that he realized he was totally naked. What the—?

His face flushed immediately as Dr. Knox raised a curious eyebrow. He was certain that he'd fallen asleep at least partially clothed. For a brief moment, he thought that his fantasies might have actually been a reality, but then he acknowledged how truly ridiculous that would be.

Knox was looking as if he was trying not to laugh at what was sure to be a shocked expression upon Talbot's face.

"I swear... I... had trousers on," Talbot muttered, trying to remain unfazed by his nakedness.

"No worries, lad," he said, as he gingerly began unraveling the bandages from Talbot's midsection. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Have you seen Marlowe?" Talbot asked while he worked, hoping to change the awkward subject matter. He glanced anywhere but his waist, as he didn't care to see the state of his stitched-up wound.

"Actually, I haven't seen her since I patched you up yesterday. Have you?"

"No." Not unless ridiculous dreams counted.

"That's curious. I figured she'd stop by again, she was really concerned about you."

Concerned enough to slap him in the face was perhaps more accurate. Talbot's frown only deepened, sitting quite silently as Dr. Knox finished wrapping the fresh dressings. Although he knew that he was just trying to help, he wasn't helping the situation much. With well wishes and a "call me if you need anything," he was once again left in peace. Or at least, as much peace as his mind would allow.

He wasn't sure how long he sat at the edge of his bed, drowning in his dark thoughts until he came to the realization that he had to speak with Marlowe. It was the only way he'd gain any semblance of peace. Impatience was dwelling in his heart and he could bear the silence no longer.

Typically, Talbot was more than capable of accepting the consequences of his actions... but he was humble enough to admit that he was willing to try reasoning with her until he had no more voice if it meant that Marlowe would reconsider.

With as much strength as he could muster, Talbot carefully stood. The head rush that resulted was quite unpleasant and he found himself bringing a palm to his forehead as the room spun. The first few steps across the room were shaky, having to lean against the wall for support. Once he found his balance, he carefully limped over to his closet and gathered a pair of pants as well as one of his white dress shirts. He dressed as quickly as his injury would allow, awkwardly tugging his trousers on. When it came to the shirt, he simply pulled the garment over his arms and left it unbuttoned. The thought of such a coordinated action was useless in his current state.

Crossing the room, Talbot made his way towards the door and cracked it open. As he peeked into the hallway, he was surprised to see that it was empty. The agents that usually patrolled during the daytime seemed to be off duty... and he wondered if it was because of him, so that the hallways remained quiet. The thought didn't make his chest feel any less heavy.

Talbot hugged the wall, sidling against it as he clutched at his side. It brought back memories of his first couple of years at the manor. He hadn't snuck out of his room in quite a long time. Shortly after he started making frequent nightly trips to the library, Marlowe had given him permission to roam around as he pleased... even after hours. It was a familiar and rather nostalgic adrenaline-rush. Though last time, it hadn't been nearly as painful.

The hallway split off into a wider passage lined by red carpeting, decorated with historical portraits and suits of armor... and it lead towards the library and Marlowe's office. Perhaps that's where he'd find her. As he rounded the corner, still looking in the opposite direction, Talbot was surprised to bump into another figure rather abruptly.

He doubled over from the impact, clutching at his waist as white-hot pain coursed through him. Talbot’s teeth were gritted to prevent himself from groaning. He was seriously regretting the fact that he'd declined Knox's offer of more medication.

"Talbot!" His stomach flipped at the sound of Marlowe's voice. He immediately straightened, trying to maintain his composure. "What the _hell_ are you doing out of bed?"

It was difficult to look at her without being overcome with emotion, but he searched her eyes carefully, in hopes that he would find some sort of clue there. There had to be something, anything, to reassure him… but Marlowe's features were stern as usual, except for her unusually knitted brow. She really didn't look pleased to see him. Far from it, actually.

With eyes narrowed and arms crossed, Marlowe was awaiting an answer as she looked him up and down, apparently not amused by his state of half-dress.

Talbot's gaze was directed downwards to his bare feet as he struggled to form coherent words.

"I... errr..."

"I don't even want to hear it," she snapped. With a frustrated sigh, Marlowe took him by the elbow and steered him down the hall. "Come on, back to your room."

They made the trip down the hallway, with Marlowe's grip never lessening on Talbot's arm. His face was uncomfortably warm and he refused to look at her as she dragged him along. She escorted him all the way back into his chambers, where she finally released him from her grasp.

"Get in bed," she demanded, her lips forming a thin, straight line. "I'm sending Knox up to deal with you."

"I've already seen him," Talbot said quietly. He hesitated next to his bed, still standing despite the sense of vertigo.

That didn't seem to help matters much, as Marlowe looked even more livid.

"Didn't he give you anything? I swear, if he disobeyed orders, I'll have him fired—"

"No! Don't do that, please. I... refused."

"What?" Marlowe was shaking her head. "You never cease to amaze me with your foolishness. I'm going to page him. When he comes back, you had better be ready for him."

Talbot opened his mouth, but then closed it again. It took him a moment to find the strength to speak. When he did, Marlowe was already turning to leave.

"Wait!" Talbot winced at how desperate he sounded as his voice echoed in the silence of the room. As she spun to face him again, something strange passed over Marlowe's features.

Talbot hesitated, swallowing hard. He was starting to sweat as his hand clutched at his waist. From fever or from anxiety, he wasn't sure. He just knew that he suddenly felt terribly ill. "Can we... please talk?"

"What is there to talk about?" she huffed. "Haven't we already had this conversation? "

"I hardly feel like slapping me constitutes a conversation," he said, though it was more of a mumble.

"And I won't hesitate to slap you again if you ever pull such a stunt."

Although he felt as if he was only making things worse, judging by Marlowe's strained expression, Talbot began rambling before he could stop himself.

"Please, Marlowe, just...allow me to explain. I know you believe I deserved it... and perhaps I did, but I swear, when I was ambushed yesterday... I couldn't help it, I was overwhelmed..."

"Talbot—"

"... but I promise I'll try harder and if you would just give me a chance to redeem myself, if you would just listen to me, I'm sure that we can resolve all of this and I can fix everything—"

"The men who assaulted you are dead," she deadpanned, cutting him off. "They've been taken care of."

"Oh." He stood awkwardly, fidgeting as Marlowe closed the distance between them, her expression somewhat less harsh.

"And right now," she continued, "you can't fix a _damned thing_ if you don't take care of yourself. You need your health... and that means listening to orders and showing some respect. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Marlowe," he said, already embarrassed over his outburst.

"Good. Now, for God's sake... get back into bed before you hurt yourself."

Her hands were upon his shoulders, gently easing him back into a sitting position at the edge of his bed. Talbot began sliding the dress shirt off of his arms so as not to ruin it, and to his surprise, Marlowe aided him in the task.

"Thank you," he muttered, face flushed all over again.

"You'll be more comfortable without those, don't you think?"

Talbot tilted his head to the side. What did she mean by—?

"Ohh!"

Without asking, she began tugging at his trousers. Talbot's entire body went rigid, as if every muscle in his body was suddenly paralyzed. He was frozen, helpless to do anything as she unzipped his pants and effortlessly slid them off of his hips.

"Don't act so surprised," Marlowe said coyly, once Talbot was rid of his clothes again. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

As Marlowe smirked, realization hit him with full force, and Talbot suddenly found breathing rather difficult. He was reeling. The fact that he was sitting entirely naked in front of her was promptly forgotten. He was certain that his mouth was agape as he stared, dumbfounded, into Marlowe's eyes. This time, he knew it was more than just something he'd imagined. This was real. Those eyes were real. _Marlowe_ was real... and so was everything that had occurred the prior evening.

The sheer and utter euphoria rushing through his body was more powerful than any sort of drug. Before he could form any sort of response at his revelation, her lips were against his, warm and wet... and somehow familiar. Talbot's eyes were wide as he fumbled to keep up with what was occurring and it took him a moment or two for his lips to move against hers as they kissed.

When she pulled away, Talbot's face felt like it was on fire. Surely this was a mistake, a misunderstanding, some kind of cruel joke. Part of him hoped that she'd slap him and bring him back to reality. But the blow never came. Instead, her lips curved into a half-smile as she shook her head at him, looking mildly entertained.

"Do you understand now, you fool?"

He could do nothing more than nod.

"Good."

Talbot sat numbly as Marlowe helped him get settled in bed. She pulled the sheets back over his hips as he continued to stare. He knew that it was rude, but he couldn't help it. Talbot was still expecting to wake up all over again.

"Next time," she whispered, "I'll have to make sure you remember."

_Next time...?_

"But for now, get some rest. I'll stay until the doctor arrives."

Marlowe sat beside him as Talbot remained speechless. He relaxed against the pillows as he managed to settle down, though it was difficult to calm his racing heart. Shouldn't he say something, _anything_ in return?

"Marlowe, I—"

She silenced him with another brief kiss as her palm came to rest upon his chest.

"Shhh... _rest,_ Talbot. I don't think you know the meaning of the word."

This time, when Talbot closed his eyes, a slight smile upon his face, he could rest easily knowing that Marlowe would be right there when he opened them...

... and that, he had to admit, was far better than any dream.

 


	3. Painkiller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Talbot POV. In which Talbot gets a visit from his private doctor, gets spoiled a bit and then has a very serious discussion with Marlowe regarding their relationship status.

 

 

**3\. Painkiller**

"Okay, lad... this'll only take a minute. I'm giving you the good stuff."

Propped upright in bed and resting against his pillows, Talbot warily eyed the needle in Dr. Knox's grasp. It was at _least_ an inch long and he couldn't help but frown as he watched him tap the syringe for air bubbles. He knew that the morphine would help ease his pain, but he wasn't really looking forward to being jabbed with the thing.

"Only downside is, this one's going in your bum," Knox continued, with a sympathetic smile. "Good thing you're a tough guy, right?"

If there was any color left in Talbot's face, it was surely gone.

" _What?_ " he winced. "Is that _really_ necessary?"

"Well, you see, some medications have to—"

"Am I interrupting anything?"

At the mere sound of Marlowe's voice as she unintentionally cut their conversation short, Talbot's heart was palpitating. He directed his gaze towards the doorway. Her feminine silhouette was paused there, the light pouring in from the hallway accentuating her curves as she stood with a tray balanced on her palms. He didn't mind her stopping by, but he swore that she had the _most_ inopportune timing.

Dr. Knox spoke for Talbot as she stepped into the room. "I was just giving Talbot an injection, if you wanted to give him some privacy."

"Oh, of course," she nodded curtly as she glanced at Talbot. "I'll just come back later."

Talbot didn't know anyone else in the world who would speak to Marlowe about things such as privacy. It was her mansion, after all, and she had a right to poke around wherever she wanted. In fact, she seemed to do it quite a lot lately. In a way, he admired the coolness in which Knox spoke to her, but he supposed it was a doctor's privilege.

Still, as he watched Marlowe turn to leave, Talbot just couldn't help himself.

"Wait!" Both Knox and Marlowe paused to stare at him. "I uh... it's all right if she stays," he mumbled. "I don't mind."

Even from her position in the doorway , Talbot could see the corners of Marlowe's mouth tugging into the faintest hint of a smile. She crossed the room and set the tray upon the bedside table, standing beside the bed with her arms crossed as she glanced between the two men.

"Well, don't mind me," she said, leaning on one hip.

"I can't proceed unless he allows me to," said Knox, still holding the syringe. Talbot merely stared.

"Talbot," Marlowe sighed. It was the kind of sigh that made Talbot feel small and inferior whenever she did it. "You're not nervous about a little needle, are you?"

" _No_ ," he said indignantly. "Of course not."

What he said was partially true. Needles didn't bother him. He just wasn't particularly thrilled about the embarrassing location.

"Then why all the fuss?"

With fair eyebrows knitted in confusion, Marlowe glanced at Dr. Knox. He gestured towards the needle and then towards his own backside, illustrating the situation without explicitly saying anything. Talbot appreciated that.

" _Ohhhh_ ," Marlowe said in understanding, though she suppressed a laugh. "Awh, it's all right. Nobody likes getting jabbed in their arse. But it's a necessary evil, I'm afraid."

The color was back in Talbot's face as his cheeks flushed, his knuckles turning white as he clutched at his sheets.

"Would you like me to hold your hand?"

Talbot cocked his head to the side as he stared blankly at Marlowe. For a moment, he assumed that she was mocking him. Her neutral expression gave no tells, but he figured that she wouldn't make such a suggestion in front of the doctor if she didn't mean it. By default, she had to be sincere. But... was she really going to coddle him over something so ridiculous? Talbot was torn between accepting her offer for what it was, a simple, albeit unexpected, act of kindness...or denying help and any teasing that might result later. He didn't have to make up his own mind,  however, as Marlowe had apparently decided for him.

To Talbot's surprise, Marlowe sat at the edge of his bed. Crossing her legs at her ankles in a dainty and proper sort of way, she patted her lap as if he were a small dog that she was beckoning to lie beside her.

"Come on, then, so Doctor Knox can be on his way."

With little other choice in the matter, Talbot repositioned, scooting closer to her and gently easing onto his stomach so as not to irritate the stitches in his side. With his head resting against Marlowe's hip, he hesitantly placed a palm upon her leg. She assured him that it was all right by smoothing down the hair at the base of his neck with her fingertips. He felt a bit safer, but he couldn’t help but cast a furtive glance at the needle once again.

"All set?" Knox asked. He was half-smiling, looking somewhat entertained by the sight before him. Talbot nodded grimly.

Knox pulled the sheets back and then proceeded to tug Talbot's boxers down halfway. He felt ridiculous laying there with his bum exposed, but he put on his best stoic expression, regardless.

"Just relax," Marlowe soothed, as if she had sensed his trepidation. Again, she surprised him by cupping her palm over his hand, patting it gently as Knox swabbed a spot with alcohol.

 

"Hold still, now," he said. "This'll pinch a bit."

Dr. Knox jabbed him. He didn't lie, the injection was unpleasant, and Talbot scrunched his face at the uncomfortable sting of it. Stifling a groan, his fingers clutched Marlowe's leg as he pressed his face against her lap.

"Urrgh _... ow._ "

"Shhh... shh... " Marlowe shushed him in a condescending sort of way, and squeezed his hand a bit tighter. Her presence was somehow both comforting and pitying as she distracted him for a few more seconds until the syringe was emptied.

"There you go, all done," Knox said apologetically. "You should be feeling better in no time. Actually, you probably won't be feeling much of anything."

Talbot took a couple of moments to regain his composure, with his cheek still pressed against the warmth of Marlowe's thigh as she cradled his head against her.

"I'll take it from here," she said, tugging Talbot's boxers back up, as he didn't currently have the capacity to do so himself. "Thank you, Knox."

"Make sure the young man stays in bed this time," he said with a wink. "Doctor's orders."

"Certainly."

With a polite nod, Knox packed up his satchel and left the two of them alone as he shut the door behind him. Marlowe assisted him in getting situated against his pillow once again. Talbot hissed softly once he was upright, rubbing at his sore bum. As Marlowe pulled the sheets back over his hips, he felt incapable of looking her in the eye, stunned into a shocked state of silence.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she said. "I hope you're hungry, I brought you some lunch."

Marlowe gently placed the tray upon Talbot's lap as he looked it over, happy for a distraction. There was a ham sandwich with melted cheese, a bag of crisps and a generous slice of cake... but not just _any_ cake, his absolute _favorite_ sort of sponge cake, with whipped cream and strawberries. Such things were normally reserved for outings and special occasions. Talbot was awestruck at how she remembered the seemingly insignificant details. He wondered if she kept some sort of file of his interests stashed away for reference. Somehow, he didn't doubt it.

Talbot didn't even realize that he was staring at his plate until Marlowe spoke.

"I didn't poison that or anything, you know," she said, with arms crossed.

He shook his head, startling himself out of his trance. The drugs were _definitely_ working and his brain was still reeling from everything that was occurring. "I'm sorry. It's just... I don't know what to say."

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Oh. Thank you," he said, somewhat dazed, though he managed a half-smile. "If I may ask, how did you—?"

"I pulled a few strings. Don't get used to it."

That was fine by him. He didn't want to seem ungrateful for Marlowe going out of her way. With the morphine coursing through his system, he was finally feeling up to the challenge of keeping his lunch down. For the last couple of days, pain had made it rather difficult to enjoy a great number of things... food being one of them. Initially, Marlowe's concern for his eating habits and general state of health had taken the form of anger... so her current, _softer_ , mood was a nice reprieve. So long as she wasn't yelling at people or slapping them, Talbot felt within his comfort zone.

Though he was tempted to eat dessert first, and could have probably gotten away with it given the circumstances, he decided not to push his luck. Talbot took a bite out of his sandwich, making a satisfied little noise. He felt a bit awkward eating in front of Marlowe and she must have realized it because she began pacing around the room.

"It's a bit dreary in here, don't you think? I feel like I'm in a morgue."

With an eyebrow raised, he watched as Marlowe crossed the room towards the window. Talbot found it strange that she chose to relate his chambers to a _morgue_ , of all things... but he remained silent. He probably didn't even want to know.

She drew the curtains, allowing the afternoon sun beams to illuminate the previously darkened room. Light spilled in and Talbot squinted as his eyes adjusted.

Marlowe paused momentarily, hands on her hips in a contemplative stance. "Hrm. I think some fresh air might do you some good."

Although Talbot didn't particularly enjoy being outdoors, he couldn't disagree that sometimes, a bit of clean air was refreshing. Occasionally, he wandered through the gardens on his days off before finding a quiet place to read. Now that he was confined to bedrest for at least a week, that wasn't about to happen any time soon... so he wouldn't stop her from brightening things up a bit.

She bent low to crack the window open and Talbot found himself staring. Her gray pencil skirt showed off Marlowe's well-toned calves, and its thick belt gave emphasis to her tiny waist. Her entire outfit was actually _quite_ form-fitting, accentuating her womanly form in all of the right places. Places, he realized after a few moments of gawking at her… that he shouldn’t have been staring at in the first place.

When she turned around, the sunrays made her blonde hair glow in an ethereal kind of way. Her green eyes met his and Talbot was entranced, nearly choking on his food.

"Is that to your liking?"

"I... ah... yes," he managed, and immediately tore his gaze away from her, instead staring intently at what remained of his sandwich. His cheeks were still unbearably warm despite the breeze rushing through the room and Talbot was suddenly quite thankful for the tray still sitting upon his lap.

 

As he finished eating, Marlowe paced around, her high heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. He half-ate, half-observed as she strolled around, occasionally pulling a book from his shelves or pausing to observe a trinket or item upon his desk. It occurred to him that she hadn't previously spent much time in his room. Talbot was appreciative that she respected his privacy as a resident in her abode, but at the same time, he was feeling a bit self-conscious.

Talbot watched as Marlowe reached out and plucked a cricket ball that was perched upon one of his shelves, despite the fact that it was dirty and aged. "You enjoy cricket?"

Her inflection was halfway between a statement and a question, with a somewhat judgmental quality to it, so Talbot replied to the best of his abilities.

"I suppose," he shrugged. "I used to play with some of my schoolmates. Though... my parents urged me to take it up in the first place."

"Huh," she said, turning the ball over in her fingertips. Was that interest or boredom? "Good swing?"

"My mates weren't very fond of me whenever I stepped up to bat," said Talbot. "I think I frightened them."

At that, Marlowe smiled and put the item back into its place. "Fear isn't always a bad thing. Perhaps we can put some of those skills to good use."

For a moment, he wondered what his childhood friends would think of him now. The thought definitely entertained him.

Marlowe paced for a few more minutes before she came to stand beside his bed again, watching as Talbot ate the last few morsels of his lunch.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes, thank you."

She removed the empty tray from his lap, looking pleased that he'd eaten everything, and set it back upon the bedside table. Talbot shifted, reaching over to grab one of his books from it, and was stopped by her gentle palm against his bare shoulder.

"Ah, ah... don't move," she said, pushing him back down. "I'll get it."

Marlowe picked up the book before sitting at the edge of his bed. Without really looking at it, she handed it to him as Talbot nodded his thanks.

"Well, I suppose I'll be on my way," she said, patting his knee, where her hand lingered. "You should rest."

"Marlowe... ah, if you don't mind, I have a few questions." Without thinking, he cupped his palm over hers, as she had done earlier. The urge to reach out and touch her, to get her to stay, was too powerful to resist. Talbot was mildly disappointed when she bristled, immediately pulling her hand away.

"Yes?" Voice strained, she folded her hands neatly in her lap and pursed her lips. Talbot tried his best not to take it too personally.

"I just... well, I was wondering how this is going to work. You know, now that we..." he trailed off, part of his mind still not allowing him to accept the fact that after seven years, he was having a conversation that he'd previously only dreamed of.

"If you think that this changes anything, then you're sorely mistaken," she said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh." Talbot swallowed hard, feeling ill all over again.

"I'm not certain that you understand the severity of this situation, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt in your drug-addled state... but people _mustn't_ know about this. About _any_ of this. Do you understand?"

"I think so," he nodded numbly. It wasn't quite the answer he had hoped for, and the way she was looking at him made him feel stupid for even asking.

Marlowe's eyes seemed wilder somehow, perhaps even frantic, but he could have been imagining it. The combination of drugs flowing through his system and the food filling his stomach was making him feel nauseous and incredibly lethargic. Talbot seemed to have chosen a poor conversation topic.

"Perhaps I should make it more clear to you," she started. "You've seen firsthand the kinds of terrible things that can happen in our line of work. You may think _this_ is bad, but I assure you, there are far worse things..."

Talbot's palm came to rest upon his bandaged waist, frowning as a stab of pain jolted through him at the mention of his injury. It was a lesson learned, a selfish mistake, and one that he promised himself never to make again.

"People have, and will, use anything at their disposal to hurt us," Marlowe continued sternly. "It's simply the nature of the business. Don't believe for a second that they wouldn't use that, _or you_ , against me... If you fail to keep this a secret, or do anything that puts this at stake, then I've no problem with returning to how things were before. Understood?"

The thought of their relationship being something of a weakness to outsiders terrified him... not only for his sake, but for Marlowe's. They'd hurt her, too... and he couldn't allow himself to live with that. It was up to him to protect her regardless of their involvement. Although he was intimidated by the concept of keeping his already-overflowing emotions in check, he wasn't about to throw eight years away because he slipped. He'd just have to try a bit harder.

"I understand," he said, nodding his head solemnly. "I promise, I won't let you down."

He wanted to say more, but he already felt as if he'd expressed too much.

"Good."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them and Talbot cracked his book open in hopes of clearing the air a bit. To his dismay, his vision was beginning to blur, and the words on the page were out of focus. Though he was squinting in attempt to see better, he tried to play it off by holding the book at a different angle. It did nothing, but Marlowe apparently noticed his struggling.

"Trouble?"

Talbot sighed wearily, rubbing at his eyes. "Just a bit tired, is all."

"Here, let me..."

He hesitated for a moment, but when she offered her hand to relieve him of the book, he seemed to have no choice in the matter. Reluctantly, he allowed Marlowe to take it as she came to lay beside him, with her body pressed up against his. Talbot felt like he was in a state of shock, muscles tensing all over again in such close proximity to her... what was he supposed to do?

Talbot watched as Marlowe ran her fingers over the worn cover before opening it.

" _The Spy Who Loved Me_?" she chuckled. "Oh, Talbot... what am I going to do with you?"

If it were possible, he would have died right then and there. He turned his head away, only to have Marlowe's wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as she propped the book open with her free hand. She toyed with his unkempt hair as she began to read and he allowed himself to relax as he listened:

_"'He was about six feet tall, slim and fit. The eyes in the lean , slightly tanned face were a very clear grey-blue and as they observed the men they were cold and watchful. His good looks had a dangerous, almost cruel quality that had frightened me. But now I knew he could smile, I thought his face exciting, in a way no face had ever excited me before …"_

Although Marlowe narrated quite beautifully, her tone crisp and airy, Talbot had lost interest in the story itself. He was enjoying the pleasant, airy tone of her voice, the warmth that she emitted and the smell of sweet perfume. Feeling quite drowsy, Talbot swore he was drifting in a dream... the product of fiction, except this time, he knew that it was real.

When he felt like he could no longer support the leaden feeling in his head, Talbot dared to rest against Marlowe's shoulder. He half-expected her to recoil once again, but instead, she paused her reading briefly to plant a kiss upon his forehead. The smile upon Talbot's face couldn't have been prevented if he tried.

Eyelids heavy and breathing shallowly, he was lulled by the sound of her voice and the soothing sensation of her fingers running through his hair. Before long, Marlowe's reading became distant and muffled, and Talbot couldn't keep his eyes open a moment longer...

... but if he could, he'd look upon Marlowe forever.

She was a secret well-worth keeping.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with a cricket player. I also couldn't resist the urge for him to get a shot in his little Talbutt... but hey, at least he got awkward Marlowe hand-holdings out of it.


	4. Killer, Scholar, Businessman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Marlowe's POV... and taking place after Talbot is healed. I have an idea for a chapter that could fit between this one and the last one, but I'm not sure if I'll get around to it. So this is it for now!

**4\. Killer, Scholar, Businessman**

With Talbot pressed between the cool cellar wall and the warmth of her own body, Marlowe was hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt in between fervent kisses.

She deftly slid the material from his lightly muscled arms, her hands moving to eagerly rub along the bareness of his chest. Talbot sighed, his hot breath against her mouth as he exhaled.

Business mixed with pleasure wasn't often in Marlowe's schedule, but that had swiftly changed. Since Talbot had healed from quite the serious injury, they found themselves frequently finding time for one another. Much more frequently than she had originally intended, in fact...

The wine cellar, the stables, the laundry room... the garden. Anywhere secluded where their trysts wouldn't be spied upon. _Or heard_. The latter was a little fact that Marlowe had only recently discovered.

As Marlowe's palms traveled downwards, grazing along the waistband of Talbot's trousers, she allowed her fingers to do some exploring as they dipped into his pants. He released a noise that was halfway between a whimper and a groan as she teased him. Marlowe's lips tugged into a smile, even as they kissed. She loved the way he moaned for her.

Something about him made her feel young, _alive_ , and Marlowe had to admit those were things she hadn't felt in quite a long time. At least, not in the same capacity.

She honestly wondered how long it would last.

Despite her frequent attempts to quell such negative thoughts, she often had her doubts. Lately, they were lying at the back of her mind, like a hungry wolf waiting for the right moment to strike. It was all a matter of keeping it at bay.

The question of morality didn't bother her. More so, it was a matter of personal guilt. In many ways, Marlowe had shaped Talbot, but certainly not in the traditional sense. True, she'd taken him in, clothed him, taught him everything she knew... but he wasn't some insolent adoptee, some child she was sheltering from the rain and the cruelties of the world. Talbot knew them, and he knew them well. He was bred to be a killer, a scholar, a businessman. Talbot knew from the start what he was getting himself into, and Marlowe liked to think that their current involvement was no different. It was one of her only consolations. He could have walked away, could have bowed out gracefully when he had the chance...

... but now, it was far too late for that. Their deal was sealed with a kiss, and there was no turning back.

Marlowe supposed it was fortunate that Talbot followed her as closely as a shadow... and just as silently, without question... never faltering, never wavering. He was always there, always ready... _just for her_.

With her lips pressing harder against his, Marlowe simultaneously wanted to pull away from him and absorb his very essence into her. She both hated and loved how torn he made her feel every time she touched him.

All along, Marlowe knew within her heart that Talbot was catered to her own selfish interests... not necessarily what was best for the young man, but what was best for _herself_.

 _"Don't do this, it can't end well. You know better,"_ said a dark voice at the back of her mind. " _Stop while you still can_."

Talbot wasn't just some faceless associate she'd met in a bar and decided to drag back to her manor at the end of the day. He was fully immersed, and already much deeper than anyone had ever managed previously. He was the exception in every possible way, the one who broke every single rule that she had followed, steadfast, for countless years.

Marlowe hadn't yet figured out if her world was crumbling, or being built anew... and that's what scared her most of all.

Despite the undeniable pleasure that Talbot brought her each time they met in such a way, Marlowe couldn’t help but consider the repercussions of her actions.

Was it so wrong to want it all? Was it taking advantage, or reaping the benefits of something she had a right to? Was Talbot's devotion something she deserved, or something she was doomed to utterly ruin?

Again, an unexpected feeling of dissonance washed over her. Closing her eyes tightly, Marlowe kissed Talbot hard, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He groaned against her, and he seemed mildly surprised when she decided to break their kiss.

His blue eyes, so clear and genuine, searched hers. His expression was serene and inquisitive, with his brow furrowed in concern. She wondered what he saw, or if he had any notion of the storm that was raging inside of her and threatening to tear her apart.

"Marlowe, is something wrong?" he breathed. His voice was huskier than usual, resonating deeply from within his chest. He licked his parted lips. Did he have any idea how truly precious he was to her?

Her palm grazed the stubble along the side of his face as Marlowe leaned in to kiss his cheek, and then nibble on his ear. His hands came to rest gently upon her hips, cradling her body against his with a carefulness that she simply wasn't used to.

"No," she whispered. "Nothing at all."

They embraced, with her fingertips digging into his shoulders and her mouth against Talbot's once again. She held him tight, pulling him close and leaving not an inch between them. He was the rock she could cling to, her sense of calm, even when she felt so tumultuous. With him, she felt safe.

Rules be damned, Marlowe wasn't about to let him go any time soon.


	5. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CHAPTER: Just a tiny drabble of sorts that popped into my mind recently that I failed to upload. More wounded young Talbot… again from Marlowe's POV. Kind of a practice in flow, I suppose. It references events from By Your Side, and takes place between chapters 3 and 4 of this fic. So, it's out of order but I figured I'd upload it anyhow!

 

**  
**

**5\. Weakness**

Just because Talbot was confined to bed rest in his weakened state, didn't necessarily mean that it had to be _restful_.

Carefully straddling Talbot's hips, the one area of his body that remained unmarred by scrapes and bruises, Marlowe was offering some further motivation for him to get well soon. She playfully hovered above him as she planted a trail of kisses along his collarbone, while her palms rested lightly against the firmness of his broad chest. In reaction to her lips against his bare skin, Talbot breathed deeply and sighed, exhaling a warm huff of air that shifted Marlowe's fringe over her eyes.

A faint smile was tugging at the corners of Marlowe's mouth as she pulled away for a moment to observe him, adjusting the flyaway tendrils of hair as she tucked them behind her ear. Talbot's own hair was shaggy and unkempt and looking particularly mussed up from where her fingers had been entangled just moments before. Talbot returned her smile wearily, with eyes-half lidded. The dark circles beneath them made them all the more striking. As she searched their blue depths, she could see the fire returning.

Though it already seemed a mere nightmare, just a few days prior, that fire had nearly been extinguished.

The last week had been exhausting for both of them: Talbot being physically hurt, and Marlowe hurting inwardly, an inner battle raging every time she saw him in so much pain. The fact that Talbot was injured so grievously was awful, she couldn't deny such a thing, but Marlowe was blindsided by her emotional investment in the matter. If it were any other agent, she simply wouldn't care… but as usual, Talbot had an unusual way of getting to her.

Through it all, she had maintained a calm and collected exterior, the result of years' worth of keeping her emotions well-guarded… but it was the raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface that truly unnerved her. Most of the time, she didn't even care to acknowledge that she was suddenly hand-holding and whispering words of comfort… and waking up from a restless slumber in order to tread down the hallway, just to check on him.

Talbot would never know how often she'd visited him over the course of the last week, delaying meetings or cancelling plans or sneaking a trip to Talbot's chambers in between business calls. She wouldn't stay long as she sat at the edge of his bed, wiping the sweat from his brow and silently observing him as he dozed in a morphine-induced haze. Occasionally, Talbot would mumble her name as he tossed and turned, and the way her heartbeat quickened took her by surprise. It always sounded so different when he uttered it… somehow more real, more _sincere_.

It scared the bloody hell out of her every damn time.

It was a strange dichotomy, half of her feeling truly alive, perhaps for the first time ever, and the other half arguing that she was only weakening herself for imminent downfall. Attachments were dangerous and emotions were weakness… and Katherine Marlowe was anything _but_.

Somehow, she hoped that Talbot would understand that the subtleties and subtext were the only ways she knew how to show her affection, even if it was in a "classically Katherine" sort of way. She was still growing used to such things, and though it pained her to admit it, she realized that she'd been particularly soft towards Talbot since he'd been wounded. Although she'd said it on several occasions, Marlowe could only hope that he wouldn't get used to such special treatment and shameless pampering.

Talbot squirmed beneath her, his breathing shallow as she moved upwards to lick the sensitive flesh of his neck, her tongue swirling in little circular motions. Bruises still remained in hand-like patterns, a visible and disturbing reminder of where Talbot's assailant had attempted to strangle him. As she nipped and teased him with her teeth, she was sure that her current handiwork would be a far more pleasant reminder for him to look upon later.

Though he was still weary, the last several days had showed much improvement, both in Talbot's physical appearance and his spirits. Marlowe was relieved to see the color returning to his face, the bruises beginning to fade, and the wounds closing up. He'd spent far too many days writhing in bed, delirious from pain, drugs and fever… and vomiting up what very little food he was able to keep down. It seemed only fair that he was allowed a reprieve… and Marlowe was happy to provide.

She cast a quick glance to the clock upon Talbot's bedside table. Though he favored his wristwatch, she insisted that he utilize a digital clock until he was well again. Within the hour, Dr. Knox would be returning for one of his Talbot's daily check-ups… which usually consisted of bandage-changing and injection-giving. His medication would be wearing off soon. Frequent visits from the aging doctor were both a blessing and a curse, and Marlowe was certain that Knox had taken notice of her particular interest in Talbot well before he'd been injured so badly. The current situation, no doubt, just made it all the more apparent. She only hoped she was a good enough actress to prevent him from getting _too_ suspicious.

Few people, both within her Organization and outside of it, saw how she functioned in her day-to-day lifestyle… and even fewer were allowed a glimpse inside of her Manor. Knox was allowed both privileges, being one of the only people she truly trusted. He'd worked beside her for many years as a field medic as well as a private doctor, and his careful treatment of Talbot only increased her respect for him. He was a highly intelligent man, book smart and empathetic. He knew better than to reveal such delicate information… and so their secret remained safe. There would be many obstacles ahead, most assuredly… as any secret relationship was bound to have its difficulties, but now was neither the time nor the place to consider such things.

Marlowe was tempted to shake her head at the familiar pattern of thoughts resurfacing. It was a bit surreal how Talbot had a way of tearing down every carefully-built defense… leaving her naked and exposed.

But naked, she supposed, wasn't always a bad thing…

Marlowe offered a half-smile as Talbot hesitantly began unbuttoning her blouse… trembling in his nervousness. The drugs in his system beginning to wear off probably weren't helping matters much. It was precious in a terribly sad sort of way.

Awkwardly fumbling, he started at the top and moved downwards as each button was undone and a bit more skin was revealed. When her shirt was fully open, she watched as Talbot's ears flushed pink, noticeable even in the dimness of the mid-evening lighting, though she could tell that he was trying to remain stoic about it and failing miserably. He bashfully glanced over her bare skin, causing Marlowe to chuckle lightly. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed the way he looked at her. Nobody had ever quite looked at her the way Talbot did… a mesh of admiration and awe. Somehow, she felt that when Talbot gazed upon her, he truly _saw_ her. Needless to say, she wasn't used to it.

He allowed his fingertips to brush gently across her stomach and along her waist, following the smooth curve down to her hip. In an instant, he froze, his body rigid against her as if something had startled him, and darkness passed over his handsome features. Talbot's blue eyes, usually so clear, were suddenly clouded by unshed tears as his delicate caresses paused at her hip. Marlowe wondered if he was in pain, and was seriously considering calling the doctor until she realized that he was staring. What was he looking at?

Glancing to where Talbot's hand had lingered, Marlowe saw that his thumb was tracing the scar that remained upon her left hip, the result of a bullet wound that could have very easily killed her during an expedition in Venezuela, had it not been for Talbot's valiant efforts and courage in the face of such dangerous circumstances. He had performed admirably for his first out-of-country mission, and Marlowe rarely thought about that day…

That's when it hit her, and Marlowe's train of thought came to a crashing, fiery halt.

He'd never seen it.

Talbot had remained by her side, fought for her safety and tended to her injury… all the while, swearing not to leave her… and she'd never let him close enough for him to see her scars.

Now it was Marlowe's turn to be overcome, as raw emotion surfaced with a tightening in her chest and a lump in her throat. Still, she managed to squelch it with a smile, for his sake more than hers.

"It's all right, you can touch it," she said softly, shaking her head when Talbot paused as if he'd done something horribly unforgivable. Marlowe cupped a palm over his hand, assuring him that it was all right. "That was already quite a long time ago, wasn't it?"

Nearly four years had passed since that day… and looking back on it, Marlowe could have never foreseen them sharing such intimacy. Life had a funny way, it seemed.

"This is because of me," he whispered, his fingertips reverently lingering upon the circular scar.

"Oh, Talbot." Marlowe leaned forward, gently placing her palms on either side of his face as she shook her head and forced his gaze. He always had a way of focusing on his supposed failures. "You foolish thing."

She wasn't sure how to express to her young protégé how much of a breath of fresh air he truly was, but she could at least make an attempt.

"We all have our scars to bear, and you may think of it as a bad thing, but this is a very unique reminder."

He looked like he was about to cry, lips quivering and eyes wide and watery.

"Unique?" he choked. "How could you say that?"

Marlowe pressed her forehead against his own, regarding him intently.

"Because you did what others wouldn't have done in your position."

"… and what is that?"

"You stayed with me."

Talbot exhaled a shaky, steadying breath as Marlowe stared for a long moment, watching as several tears trailed down Talbot's bruised cheek, leaving a watery path in their wake. She'd never actually seen him cry before… probably a combination of pain and an overwhelming amount of change in a relatively small timeframe, so she supposed she could forgive him just this once. It was pitiful.

Without another word, Marlowe captured his mouth in what she hoped was a reassuring kiss. Talbot's lips were soft and warm… and somewhat salty from the tears that had been shed as he sighed against her, his arms encircling her waist and holding her as if he'd never let go.

Sometimes, she selfishly wished he never would… just as he had in Venezuela four years ago. What he saw as a failing was her first real glimpse of Talbot's undying devotion to her. Though it was far from what she'd planned, Marlowe had let Talbot in, unlocked her heart… and threw away the sodding key. Oftentimes, she feared getting too close, too attached. She'd never been close to anyone. Far too many people had used her affections against her… and she had never quite been the same. They were a weakness. Emotions were a weakness. _Talbot_ was a weakness. But despite the warnings in the cards, Marlowe knew what she wanted, and was well aware of the repercussions of her actions.

Talbot might be her fatal soft spot, but he was healthy, he was _hers_ , and in the current moment, she was willing to admit that was all that mattered… as long as they continued to heal together. Marlowe was never a strong believer in romantic sentiments, but somehow, whenever she was alone with Talbot… she had a strange and unshakable feeling they would.

 

 


End file.
